Chapter 1: Master, It Is Time to Enter the Ten Thousand Souls Banner

Night fell like ink; within a desolate mountain's lone temple, a flickering candle cast the shadows of an old man and a youth.

The disheveled old man, breathing his last, looked at the beggar boy before him and said weakly, "My time is nearly up; from now on, you must walk your path alone. Awakening the spirit is merely the starting point of cultivation; shedding the mortal to become an immortal is a thorny journey. Never be arrogant, never act rashly, never be soft-hearted..."

A string of more than ten "never"s gave Chen Ye a headache.

He thought to himself that this cultivator was dying far too laboriously; his master had been talking for half a day without pausing, and by all appearances, he did not look like someone about to die.

But Chen Ye pondered carefully and felt that his master was indeed going to die.

His master, Mo Ci, practiced demonic arts; usually the coldest and most ruthless, he often said, "If it were not for my soul having withered from too many soul usurpations, I would have long since usurped your flesh."

Demonic sect cultivators rarely care much for the bond between master and disciple.

Mo Ci had repeatedly warned him that for the sake of cultivation, one could abandon parents, wives, and children; let alone a master-disciple relationship.

Though he usually spoke ruthlessly, his repeated warnings now seemed to stem from the saying that when a man is about to die, his words are kind.

Chen Ye was a child Mo Ci had picked up.

Having spent only a few months together, looking at Chen Ye's face, Mo Ci recalled the scene when he first took him as a disciple.

The first thing this boy said after learning he was a demonic cultivator was, "Master, can you teach me to refine the Ten Thousand Souls... the Human Emperor Banner?"

Mo Ci thought at the time that although this boy was overly ambitious, he was truly a natural seed for demonic cultivation, speaking of refining human souls the moment he opened his mouth.

So Mo Ci took Chen Ye as his disciple and taught him cultivation.

He had originally thought he could hold on for a few more years, at least until the boy formed his Qi Sea, but he never expected today to be his death date.

Mo Ci felt little regret; after all, every demonic cultivator has a past too shameful to recall. If one had a choice, who would forsake the glorious path of righteous cultivation to become a demon in a gutter?

Since there was no choice, there was nothing to regret.

Mo Ci reached out and patted Chen Ye's shoulder.

"Disciple, I have little left to say, and nothing good to leave you. No need to wait for this old man to draw his last breath; the immortal path is long. From today on, walk it yourself."

Chen Ye kowtowed to his master, slowly rose, and then took out a white banner from his storage bag.

"Master, do you know what this is?"

Chen Ye's words made Mo Ci, who had already closed his eyes, reopen his clouded gaze. Upon seeing the spells on the white banner, he first froze, then laughed loudly: "A Ten Thousand Souls Banner? Truly a disciple of the Demonic Sect! I am not yet dead, and you already wish to use this thing to capture my soul?"

Mo Ci never expected that at this very last moment, Chen Ye would produce such an item.

Indeed, he had not misjudged; this was a natural demon.

But immediately, he sneered: "Fool! My cultivation is three realms above yours. Even on the brink of death, how could I be schemed against by a greenhorn like you? Look at this banner: crude materials, incomplete spells. Do you really think you can refine a Ten Thousand Souls Banner? Such overconfidence; within ten years, you will surely lose your life..."

The more Mo Ci spoke, the more agitated he became, nearly unable to hold back from slapping this reckless disciple to death.

The Demonic Sect may disregard family, but one cannot fail to see the gap in power.

However, Chen Ye directly waved his hand to stop his master's "last words" and said with bold confidence, "Master, this Ten Thousand Souls Banner indeed uses inferior materials, and the spells are incomplete. It has only a slight effect of gathering and nurturing souls, possesses no formations or control methods, and could easily be destroyed by a mere fall."

"Precisely because of this, I was able to cobble it together. Simply put, it is a dwelling for ghosts to possess, but at least it can prevent your soul from scattering. That is all the skill I have; for this Ten Thousand Souls Banner, enter it if you wish, or not."

Mo Ci froze for a moment and asked in confusion, "You did this only to preserve my soul?"

Chen Ye nodded and said, "Correct. I have little skill, but this Ten Thousand Souls Banner cost me much effort. Master, I know it is hard to be a wandering ghost; one might easily be captured and enslaved and tortured day and night. But as long as the soul does not scatter into the void, there is still a sliver of hope. Perhaps one day, when I attain the Dao and become an immortal, I can reshape a body for you?"

Mo Ci scolded, "You are so fussy; where is the ruthlessness of a Demonic Sect disciple? Furthermore, if others learn you possess a Ten Thousand Souls Banner hiding a main soul of the Transcendent Realm, can you keep it? This is purely inviting trouble..."

Chen Ye said impatiently, "Master, just say whether you will enter this Ten Thousand Souls Banner or not?"

Mo Ci fell silent for a long time, then finally sighed: "Very well."

Only then did Mo Ci's seven orifices emit curling blue smoke, which transformed into a phantom figure drifting toward the Ten Thousand Souls Banner.

Chen Ye gave a soft shout: "Capture!" The white banner fluttered slightly, drawing his spiritual soul inside.

In an instant, the spells on the banner shone, forming a ghostly face.

Mo Ci's surprised voice came from within the Ten Thousand Souls Banner: "This magical treasure is extraordinary; how can its soul-nurturing effect be so good?"

Having survived multiple soul usurpations to extend his life, Mo Ci's spiritual soul was already extremely weak; if he had died naturally, a mere breeze would have scattered it.

He had originally thought that Chen Ye's cobbled-together Ten Thousand Souls Banner would be lucky to merely keep his soul from scattering, but upon entering, he discovered it also had the effect of gathering yin energy to nourish the spiritual soul.

Mo Ci reflected that if he himself used the same materials, he absolutely could not refine the same effect.

Chen Ye smiled proudly: "The Ten Thousand Souls Banner is also a yin-gathering object, inseparable from the Kun, Xun, Li, and Dui four yin trigrams. One must vary them in combination and interweave their numbers. The spiritual soul has form but no shape; so-called being and non-being give birth to each other, difficulty and ease achieve each other. Based on this, I improved the refinement method, eliminated many useless and complicated steps, and refined the spells..."

Mo Ci now understood Chen Ye's feelings from just now; the spiritual soul, having just left the body, nearly scattered into the void from Chen Ye's chanting. These were all things described in books, things he had read himself, but why did they sound so profound coming from Chen Ye's mouth?

And Mo Ci was shocked to discover that in the matter of refining treasures, he was actually having trouble keeping up with Chen Ye's thoughts.

Could this boy truly be a genius?

Although Mo Ci's cultivation was far higher than Chen Ye's, that was magic power accumulated over years; he knew well that his own talent was merely average.

Methods of cultivation, methods of refining treasures, and various spells were all followed by rote; how others practiced, so did he.

Sometimes he could obtain fragments of ancient texts, but Mo Ci could only grasp the gist with half-understanding; his comprehension was quite mediocre.

And those righteous experts and Demonic Sect Heavenly Lords, which of them did not innovate from ancient methods, realize their own unique path of cultivation, and thus earn the qualification to knock upon the immortal gate?

Someone with Mo Ci's aptitude had no hope of becoming an immortal in a lifetime.

But who among those of mediocre talent is willing to admit defeat?

Mo Ci was like this, and so were all cultivators under heaven; they only admit their fate when their lifespan is about to end.

Watching Chen Ye, whose eyes shone and who spoke nonstop, Mo Ci could not help but feel hope arise in his heart.

Perhaps this boy truly can become an immortal?

Mo Ci felt his emotions complex; he had thought Chen Ye lacked ruthlessness and would not go far on the cultivation path, yet he was also grateful that this disciple's affection and righteousness gave him a sliver of a chance at life.

"Sigh..."

Mo Ci sighed again, about to give Chen Ye a few more instructions; being soft-hearted was fine for himself, but one must never be so toward others in the future.

But before Mo Ci could speak, he saw Chen Ye take out a stack of talisman papers from his storage bag and paste them onto his corpse.

Mo Ci asked in surprise, "Disciple, what are you doing?"

Chen Ye replied, "Refining Master's corpse into a zombie. Although you did not practice body cultivation, turning you into a zombie is merely a cheap product, but better than nothing; we cannot waste it, right?"

Hearing Mo Ci:......

This child will surely become a great vessel!